


In Your Name

by AlexxAplin, ConeyIslandBlitz



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Dark, Dubious Consent Due To Identity Issues, Idiots in Love, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Mental Instability, Obsession, Quentin has been through some shit in his life, Quentin is a stalker, Quentin is not a bad person, Sex Magic, Sexting, Stalker fic, Stockholm Syndrome, set in Brakebills era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2019-06-24
Packaged: 2020-05-18 22:36:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19344070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexxAplin/pseuds/AlexxAplin, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConeyIslandBlitz/pseuds/ConeyIslandBlitz
Summary: In which we see another, darker side to Quentin Coldwater.ORIn which we ask, "How forgiving would you be if you were Eliot?"





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Guys.
> 
> I cannot warn you all enough about this fic.  
> Please, please read at your own discretion; this gets kinda dark. Just wait.

Eliot and Margo sauntered into the Physical Kids Cottage at Brakebills after their morning class, and Eliot was visibly in search of a special someone. That special someone had hidden himself in a nook by the window, curled up with his favourite book, engrossed in the tales within. Once Eliot had spotted him, he made a beeline for him and sat down next to his favourite little hermit.

“Quentin! There you are! Daddy needs a hug…” Eliot said excitedly, wrapping his arms around Quentin without hesitation. Quentin was always one to keep to himself. People often called him Quentin the loner, or Quentin the wallflower, because despite his skill in magic – and he proved to be surprisingly adept – he wasn’t the most social. And yet, Eliot… well, Eliot saw right through Quentin’s socially awkward exterior, and often gave him the affection he so craved but never dared to ask for. That was why Quentin had hidden a shrine to Eliot with magic, and kept it where nobody could really find it. He knew objectively that his feelings (bordering on, if not passing obsession) weren’t entirely what one would call “healthy”, but Eliot made him feel nice, and he loved Eliot, so… was it then really so bad? When Eliot hugged him he smiled, hugging Eliot back without hesitation. If it had been anyone else, he’d likely be awkward, perhaps stiff, because while he liked being touched, he only liked it from people he felt comfortable around. Where he was at now, that number was at a grand total of… three. Eliot, Margo and Julia – who, sadly, he never saw so much these days because she had a different discipline: meta-composition, filed under Knowledge – which left him then with a grand total of two people he felt comfortable enough with to allow physical contact.

“You were looking for me?” he asked Eliot, looking at him with his usual lovestruck gaze, which Margo had said on numerous occasions that he needed to discuss with Eliot at some point. Truthfully, he was terrified of the possible rejection, and was far more comfortable just pining and being Eliot’s BFF. Eliot never found his photography weird, or his wallflower tendencies. Eliot was safe, Eliot was… home? And that in itself was weird, and perhaps quite scary if he were ever to say this to Eliot aloud.

“Always, love. I missed you today… and I could really use one of your master back rubs later,” Eliot said, never letting go of Quentin. The bond between Quentin and Eliot wasn’t exactly one-sided, if Eliot were honest with himself. He formed an irrational attachment to Quentin the moment he laid eyes on him; initially, he saw a lost escapee lamb who needed guidance, but as time passed and their friendship blossomed – mostly through Eliot simply not leaving him alone, which Quentin would normally utterly loathe about a person – he felt a wave of calm whenever he was around Quentin. Of course he idiotically hadn’t a single clue how strongly Quentin felt for him, but that didn’t stop him from feeling strongly for Quentin. He didn’t know what it was between them that worked so well; he only knew it was something that was not to be fucked with under any circumstance.

“A back rub is definitely on the table. I don’t need to be a psychic to know that part of your future,” Quentin said, and he kissed Eliot’s cheek with a smile, hugging him tightly, “so how was your day? Did you and Margo have class, or was it another picnic day for the two of you?” he teased, knowing that his two best friend often skipped class just to have some fun outside. He shifted from where he’d been sitting before, to make it easier for him to hug Eliot properly. He smelled so nice, and if Quentin was honest, no-one else made him feel safe and happy the way Eliot did. He knew that if he had a therapist, they’d disapprove of the strength of his attachment to another person, but he didn’t care. As far as he was concerned, he didn’t need anybody else.

“You’ll be shocked to know, that we actually went to class this morning. _With_ a hangover and everything,” Eliot sighed, leaning his chin on Quentin’s shoulder. Quentin gave him an affectionate but scolding look.

“Eliot… that could have been avoided if you took the elixir I cooked up and left for you last night,” he said teasingly. Eliot looked at him in surprise.

“Oh, you mean that little blue vial on my nightstand; that was you? Aww Q, that’s so sweet of you! You didn’t have to do that…” Eliot said, kissing Quentin’s temple, causing him to blush.

“I wanted to…” Quentin trailed off, stopping himself from continuing with, ‘because I love you’. He instead settled on, “I didn’t want you to be out there suffering with a hangover, because I know how grumpy you get, and then Margo will get pissed, and then I don’t get to spend so much time with you. It was a selfish choice, really,” he joked, attempting to sell it with a deadpan delivery, but they both knew he did it because he didn’t want Eliot to be ill.

“Aww, it’s cute when you try to act all casual…” Margo teased. To her, it couldn’t be more infuriatingly, face-palmingly, head-desk-worthily, _blindingly_ obvious how desperately they were both hearteyesing for one another; the worst part is that they simply _refused to budge_ from their current position in their relationship. At the same time, seeing them be all cute with each other like this was warming her heart, and she secretly hoped one day to find someone who looked at her the same way Eliot and Quentin looked at each other.

Quentin stuttered in protest to Margo’s teasing, which she fondly laughed at, saying, “Q, relax. I took mine this morning because I’m smart, unlike someone I could mention…” she pointedly looked over to Eliot, “but thank you for leaving it for us, it really was sweet of you. Now, let’s eat. I’m starving.” Margo got up and headed to the kitchen.

“Hey… you knew? And you didn’t tell me? I feel betrayed, Bambi,” Eliot said, looking at her all mock-scandalised, to which Quentin giggled a little. He loved Eliot’s flair for the dramatic.

“Food sounds real good right now,” Quentin’s stomach growled a little to further accentuate his point, “I, uh… I might’ve forgotten to eat breakfast,” he admitted shyly, thought he didn’t say that the reason he skipped breakfast was that he was too focused on adding pictures to his ever-growing shrine.

“Quentin Makepeace Coldwater, you need to make time to take care of yourself too! Whatever am I gonna do without those _glorious_ back rubs?” Eliot said by way of mock-scolding Quentin right back, adding a little tease while he was at it.

“Sorry… I just got a little preoccupied, I guess,” Quentin said in a small voice as he held his head down and followed Eliot and Margo to the kitchen. He already missed Eliot’s touch; he wanted to pull Eliot by the lapels of his blazer and kiss him until he was out of breath… and the rest. He already owed Eliot a back rub; he wondered if he could get away with going one further and giving him a full body massage, with more direct skin on skin contact? He imagined Eliot topless on his bed, covered in massage oil, and he imagined gliding his hands across Eliot’s bare skin and – _not now, Quentin!_ He would also settle for tugging Eliot by the suspenders (when he chose to wear them) so he could kiss him breathless and _oh fuck, here you go again-_

“So uh, what’s for lunch? Or rather, what are you guys hungry for?” Quentin asked curiously, trying to distract himself from his own thoughts, whilst feeling unable to resist moving a little closer to Eliot, figuring if he couldn’t keep his hands on Eliot all the time, close proximity would have to do. _Distract yourself Quentin, neither of them can know you’ve gone and given yourself a boner just thinking of kissing Eliot; that would be embarrassing-_ Quentin nervously cleared his throat and tucked his hair behind his ear before he tried to make himself useful by rummaging around the cupboards for something to inspire him.

“Maybe Eliot can whip up one of his pasta salads, they’re to die for,” Margo suggested, to Quentin’s relief.

“I’ll get right on it. That means you two – out of my kitchen, pronto! Chop chop!” Eliot commanded, clapping his hands on cue and getting into his master chef character as he generally does.

Quentin was a little hesitant, before he decided it didn’t make sense to push the issue further; he didn’t want to draw any more attention to his attraction to Eliot, so he looked to Margo.

“Maybe we can, I dunno, grab drinks while Eliot does his best Gordon Ramsay impression?” he grinned, attempting for a playful side of conversation. Margo chuckled at Quentin’s joke and held out her hand for him to take so she could drag him away, and they could make themselves useful while they waited for Eliot to get cracking with lunch.

Margo wanted so much to talk Quentin into pursuing his attraction to Eliot further, but she knew how he could get, and she didn’t want to put him on the spot like that. If he wanted to talk, he would talk; she respected his boundaries and knew it wasn’t her place to force it out of him, no matter how much she itched to get into his head. They talked while they were preparing drinks, and when the conversation turned to Eliot, Quentin tried so hard to tell Margo the truth, but the words just wouldn’t come out; it was like there was nothing he could say that would do justice in expressing how much he loved him. So this made him rather embarrassed and flustered, which led to Margo taking pity on him and changing the subject. He was annoyed at himself though, because if anybody could understand his love for Eliot, it would be Margo… right?

At the same time though, Quentin was also partly glad he couldn’t find the words to express how he felt about Eliot; what if he came across as creepy? He couldn’t possibly risk driving Margo away - she was as good a friend to him as Eliot was, and Quentin was not a popular guy at all. He found it damn near impossible to connect with other people, so to have connected on such a level with Margo, and especially with Eliot… it was pretty big for him. He cherished their friendship.

“ _A little too much if you think about it… One day they’ll find the shrine you’ve been building for El and they’ll freak out and they’ll cast you away for it – it’s better that they don’t know.”_

It was thoughts like that, that led to Quentin hugging himself, alone in his bed, late at night when no-one heard or saw his tears. He had never felt like he belonged anywhere, and even here and now… with magic, he only felt as though he partway belonged.

_That’s because there’s something deeply wrong with you. You’re a broken toy, nothing more._ That voice in his head spoke from the dark recesses of his mind.

_They’re only your friends because they saw you and took pity on you; they’re just humouring you. Why did you have to get so attached? Especially to Eliot? ‘He only has eyes for you?’ What a fucking lie. They’re lying to you, Quentin. They’re lying to you just to keep you sweet._

The voice was most relentless at night, when there was nobody to shut off the noise. This is partly why he built the shrine. On nights as sleepless as this, he would light up the candles he’d placed around it and he’d stare at them, focusing on the flames until the noise eventually went from hostile against Quentin, to rationalising the depth of his obsession with Eliot. _‘I don’t care if you’re just humouring me, Eliot; it just feels nice to feel loved. You make me feel loved. And I love you. I love you so much it hurts. I love you so much I never want to be without you. I need you by my side forever. You make me feel safe. If there’s any part of you that truly loves me, I can die happy just having that,’_ he thought to himself almost like a prayer, before he blew out the candles and went back to bed.

His reverie was broken by Eliot poking his head out a few moments later to announce, “Lunch is almost ready! I hope you two are hungry, because I, uh… I made too much.”

“Oh perfect; I could eat a ton,” Quentin said with a smile, and the thoughts were quiet for a moment. Margo and Quentin made their way towards Eliot, who had finished setting the table, and they took their seats in anticipation of what Eliot had prepared for them. Quentin felt a little troubled by his own thoughts, and Margo was quick to notice this.

“Coldwater… are you okay? What’s that naughty brain been telling you about us this time?” she asked in earnest, knowing Quentin’s signs.

“Oh, nothing you haven’t already heard before,” Quentin said dismissively, which wasn’t even a lie, because how many times did he have to tell them the same thing? Margo went over to hug him, and kissed the top of his head. Quentin appreciated the gesture and the comfort; he almost felt himself start to cry and he just let her hold him. He managed to keep from becoming a blubbering mess, and hugged Margo back gratefully. He had no clue what they must think, seeing him randomly get like this without a discernible trigger. He wondered if they ever talked about it when he wasn't around, maybe speculated on what kind of abuse he must have suffered to cause him to be so… broken. _A broken toy,_ the voice reminded him. Once the food was ready though, Margo went back to her seat, making a point to stroke Quentin’s back as she made her distance, and Quentin steeled himself a bit more.

Lunch was served, and the three amigos ate heartily. Eliot and Margo gossiped to Quentin about their morning class and the drama that had ensued there. There was lots of laughter and wine, and yes of course Eliot made way too much. He saw that once they’d all had more than their fill, there was enough left over for at least two of them to grab an extra midnight snack should they fancy it. So without further ado, he put the rest in an airtight container to be stored in the fridge. The three of them then moved to the couch; Margo to one side of Eliot, Quentin to the other, and they all shared some more wine. Despite the thoughts that had gone through Quentin’s mind barely half an hour ago, he was feeling incredibly content just being with Eliot. And Margo, of course, but… Eliot. He looked on at Eliot with the biggest puppy dog hearteyes while Eliot regaled them with further gossip that even Margo had missed out on, and _god you’re so beautiful… I wanna kiss you, I wanna feel your skin on mine I want it all- mm, you smell so good-_

“Oh watch out Q, don’t wanna spill any wine all over your shirt,” Eliot warned in kind as he noticed Quentin curling up against him with his eyes closed, engrossed in his thoughts, and he wrapped his arm around him. Eliot shot an inquisitive look at Margo, who signalled to him that he was having a bad head day.

“Mm, sorry, should I, um… should I move?” Quentin asked, looking up at Eliot in his usual aforementioned puppy dog eyes, “I am listening, I’m just…”

Margo smiled sympathetically, saying, “Your brain is being a little shit and we’re a good distraction.” It wasn’t even a question, it was an outright statement.

“Yeah, exactly,” Quentin admitted, grinning a little. Margo and Eliot spoke his language so well; it was no wonder he hated being alone, aside from having been locked in several closets, across several different foster homes in his youth… _not that you didn’t deserve it-_ the voice chimed in.

Eliot kissed him on the temple as they shifted to a more comfortable position together. If Eliot was honest with himself, he loved holding Quentin and would never pass up a given opportunity to do so. Eliot had a very soothing voice, Quentin found. He could listen to Eliot talk all day and all night and he’d be happy. The three of them had eventually gotten themselves zen-drunk, which was fairly new for Eliot and Margo; it was a gentle buzz that left them feeling more content with life than anything else, and they’d relaxed enough to just fall asleep right where they were, of course making sure to put down their wine glasses as soon as they could feel themselves drop, so to speak.

Quentin found himself falling asleep too, curled up with Eliot, and yet it seemed as though not even his dreams were safe in that moment. His mind flashed to nightmares of being locked in closets, kicked in the ribs, thrown down the stairs, and so many other horrid scenarios from his life prior to Brakebills, and it all left him wide awake in terror. The rest of the cottage had become dark, so he slowly extricated himself from Eliot long enough to get a glass of water, taking just a few sips from it, and trying a few self-soothing things to calm his trembling before he carefully made his way back to the couch, curling up right where he had been before. _Nothing more than a broken toy that no-one really wants around,_ his mind repeated, before he pushed the thought away, by focusing on the sound of Eliot’s breathing.

He felt Eliot shift in his sleep though; thankfully it was just to hold him tighter, as if he knew was had been troubling him. And so, he held on tighter to Eliot, like he was an anchor to stop him from drifting away and getting lost in a sea of his own traumatic memories and intrusive thoughts. Quentin felt himself tear up once more, as he laid his head on Eliot’s chest, his ear aligned perfectly with Eliot’s heart, so the soft thump-thump-thump could soothe him to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is where it all truly begins. It only escalates from here, guys.

One night, when Quentin was restless, he decided to start a… new layer of his obsession. He’d gotten himself a pay-as-you-go phone, and with the help of the internet, he’d managed to hack it – mostly with a few spells he heard about from Todd - so that he didn’t have to give it time. He then texted Eliot with a simple message of **‘You’re beautiful, and I love you. – An Admirer’**. It was never intended to be anything more than a simple thing, but… as Quentin’s brain often did, things escalated.

Eliot received the message and was incredibly flattered. He wondered who this admirer was; though, he was worried that Quentin may get jealous if he found out he was getting anonymous messages from a secret admirer, so for the time being he kept it a secret. It didn’t stop him from being as casually intimate as he always was with Quentin, because he didn’t see it as a big deal. Not yet, anyway. He did notice that these admirer messages came mostly at night, which perhaps ought to have been a bit weird, but at the same time, Eliot knew that late night was when people generally got insanely deep and honest about things.

As time went on though, the messages became more racy, and more personal; going from **‘I dream of kissing you until you’re breathless and begging for more,’** and **‘I long to feel your skin on my skin, your lips on mine,’** to straight-up dirty talk such as **‘I’d love to tie you up and have my way with you… or the other way around if you’d prefer,’** or **‘I want to feel you deep inside me.’** Quentin knew he really shouldn’t, but if he couldn’t tell Eliot any of these things face to face, then maybe it was only right that he say them via a proxy? _Liar… Creep… Worthless… Can’t even say these things to his face… Pathetic…_ Quentin’s mind began, but he couldn’t stop himself. He felt the need to tell Eliot somehow, and he just wasn’t able to… he couldn’t.

Eliot woke one morning to find what he could only describe as the most risqué of all the messages he’d received to date. It read: ‘You’re so beautiful, and sexy, and I’ve fantasised so much about you fucking me raw; I want you to punish me for being such a naughty boy, because I deserve it. – Your Admirer.’ Eliot didn’t know how to react to this at first; he didn’t want to talk to Margo about it because he felt perhaps she would have made fun of him for the content of these messages. So he decided to confide in his other best friend: Quentin.

There was a knock on Quentin’s bedroom door that morning. He scrambled to hide all evidence of his stalkerish tendencies before he went to open up.

“Eliot! Hi! Um… what’s up?” he said nervously, hoping Eliot wouldn’t notice this. He didn’t.

“I, um… can I show you something? And promise not to get mad,” Eliot said, with equal nervousness. _Shit-shit-shit-shit-shit-shit-shit-shit-_

“Of course, come on in…” Quentin said, motioning to allow Eliot access to his bedroom. Quentin was still in his pyjamas, and had made sure to hide his evidence with a glamouring spell; thank goodness for magic. “So, uh… wh-what is it you wanted to show me?” he asked curiously, patting the spot next to him on the bed as he sat cross-legged, “You seem… troubled? Which is new for you, as far as I’ve seen…” Eliot quickly sat down where Quentin had beckoned him to sit after pacing a little bit.

“Uh, yeah, that’s- that’s one way to put it… look, Q… I don’t know how to say this, but, uh… I’ve been getting these… messages, anonymous messages, from a secret admirer, and um… yeah it’s best I just show you what I’ve been getting,” Eliot said with hesitation as he grabbed his phone from his pocket and showed all of the messages in his inbox from the same number. Quentin read through them all, and the wave of guilt he felt that this is how Eliot was reacting to getting the messages… it was overwhelming. He barely stopped himself from crying. “It’s just… I don’t know who the sender is, and I haven’t dared to text him back for… well I don’t know why, but at first I thought it was no big deal; the messages started off innocent, but it’s the fact that the messages get so… sexual, in nature… I kept it from you for this long because the last thing I wanted was for you to get jealous,” Eliot confessed, keeping his head down. Quentin said nothing as he wrapped his arms around Eliot in a comforting hug.

“Eliot… I’m so sorry,” he whispered in Eliot’s ear, and Eliot breathed out a sigh of relief.

“Thanks… I don’t know if I even want to find out who the sender is or not, to be honest. Margo suspects I have a stalker…” Eliot trailed off, and Quentin did all that he could not to freeze in Eliot’s arms and give himself away.

“A-A stalker?” Quentin asked quietly, his voice cracking, holding onto Eliot a little tighter – mostly because deep down he just knew this was the beginning of the end for them – though it was interpreted more as a protective gesture, “well on the bright side, if they haven’t tried to contact you, uh, physically… maybe- uh, maybe that’s a good thing?” he asked meekly, obviously worried, though not for the reason Eliot thought he was. He wasn’t sure how he was gonna hide this; why was he like this? Why did he have to ruin everything he touched? _Worthless, creep, broken toy-_ those words echoed in his head again and he did his best not to physically flinch, knowing that the last thing Eliot needed right now was for him to be fragile. “A-Are you gonna be okay?”

“I’m sure I’ll be fine, Q. I- I confess, it’s not… it’s not the first time I’ve had a stalker. At least this time, not a single interaction so far has expressed a desire to commit an act of violence against me. And you’ve seen the messages, Q; they’re all… lovely, and… at times sexual… the stalker wanting me to punish him, though… that’s a first. It’s usually the other way around, I’ve gotten death threats before…” Eliot mused, not letting go of Quentin because he felt so safe in his arms. _Perhaps there’s hope. You might not have irrevocably fucked up your friendship… you could make it through this, all you need to do is confess that it was you and- yeah no. Not doing that. Too soon._ Quentin took a deep breath and pulled away to tuck a stray hair out of Eliot’s eye.

“Well, that’s a positive, right? I mean… isn’t that a sign that they’re showing… I dunno… some kind of remorse?” Quentin asked, as his own way of asking for forgiveness that Eliot interpreted as brainstorming.

Quentin tucked Eliot’s head against his shoulder, in a facsimile of the way Eliot usually held him. “You know you’re always safe with me, right? I mean, I’ll battle-magic the shit out of anyone who tries to hurt you,” he added with a gentle smile, “but… maybe this person is actually harmless?”

“I hope you’re right, Q. The last guy… like I said, he was sending me death threats left right and centre, but… this one hasn’t gotten that far. Not yet, at least…” Eliot trailed off, hoping that this one never does go that far. Quentin held Eliot tighter, as if that was even possible at this point. _This ends now, Quentin. You’ve gone far enough._

“You will let me know if it escalates, right?”

“Of course I will. Thank you for listening, Q. I don’t know what I’d do without you,” Eliot said, pulling away just enough to press his forehead against Quentin’s.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapters may be short and sweet, but with each one you do see Quentin escalate further and further. 
> 
> Warning: self-harm. It starts to happen here.

A week after the phone incident and the stalker talk, Quentin found himself one night unable to sleep. His inner demons were getting worse; voices clawing at the back of his mind, telling him how broken, worthless and depraved he was for doing the things he was doing. He had tried reading, tried listening to nature sounds, basically anything that was supposed to calm the mind that didn’t involve Eliot, and nothing could stop the darkness that threatened to send him into a tailspin, curling up into a ball and crying until he fell asleep from exhaustion. So now, he paced, practically wearing a hole in the floor, before his mind wandered to its usual safe haven, Eliot.

“I wonder if he’s sleeping right now…” he thought out loud to himself, before he decided that just for tonight, he would watch Eliot sleep. He couldn’t go into Eliot’s room though, that would give him away in a heartbeat. A proverbial lightbulb turned itself on above Quentin’s head. “… the scrying spell from divination class!” he realised, working a spell on his bedside mirror, smiling as he saw Eliot’s sleeping form, so peaceful and serene.

“You’re so beautiful, El…” Quentin thought out loud, and found himself wanting to stroke Eliot’s hair. His mind wandered, and he imagined himself kissing Eliot’s lips, caressing Eliot’s face, Eliot’s chest, trailing downwards to stroke Eliot’s- _No, Quentin. Keep it clean… Oh well done. You’ve gone and gotten yourself hard for him already. Fine_ _… Carry on…_ -stroke Eliot’s cock, and Quentin allowed his own hand to wander downwards to his own cock as his imagination went wild. Quentin couldn’t resist touching himself, thinking of Eliot, watching him sleep in barely any clothing. He was so beautiful, so perfect… if things were different, Quentin would be happy to be Eliot’s boyfriend, or husband. Yet… he was who he was, and Eliot was way too good for him. So instead, Quentin would just have to settle for nights like these, moaning quietly into the night as he slowly, carefully worked himself up, his hand gliding up and down on his shaft.

Quentin kept his eyes on the image of his Sleeping Beauty Eliot in the mirror as he continued to work himself up. He wished it would be Eliot’s hands on his body, Eliot’s lips on his, Eliot teasing his nipples, driving him crazy with lust and need… he wanted Eliot so much. While he stroked his own cock with his right hand, he used his left to tease other sensitive parts of his body; his nipples, his balls, his hole… all the while imagining it was Eliot doing all of those things to him, or at the very least, imagining Eliot watching him through the mirror he enchanted. God, what he wouldn’t give to be able to worship Eliot. Who needs religion when you have Eliot Waugh? He would gladly give himself over to whatever Eliot desired, lay himself bare at Eliot’s feet, give everything he had and more to Eliot, and beg him to take him, hold him, never let him go. His moans grew desperate as he stroked himself faster, feeling the rising tide of ecstasy building from the tips of his toes, to the base of his spine, and on and on. He panted out Eliot’s name like a mantra until the pleasure was too much, and he came in his hand. He looked over to his enchanted mirror to see his beloved Eliot still sleeping soundly, and wondered what he looked like getting himself off too. That could be something for Quentin to look into in the future but for now, his mind was quiet, and he dozed off. With, but also without Eliot.

 

When he woke the next morning, he was careful to dispel the enchantment, so that anyone who entered the room later wouldn’t realise that he was watching Eliot’s room. He did think about the idea of doing it again though. He had slept so soundly with Eliot, even though they were rooms apart, and even though he realised that technically it was an invasion of Eliot’s privacy, and that’s what made the voices rear their ugly head again. Throughout the day, as he went about his business – it was a day where Eliot and Margo were busy, so he couldn’t spend time with them – his mind lashed out at him. _Stalker. Worthless. Disgusting,_ it said. He managed to go to class, but after that he felt restless, listless, spiralling. He could feel his skin crawl, like there were spiders underneath trying to dig themselves out and he felt a strong urge to cut them out, so he looked for the nearest sharpest knife he could find – a Stanley knife – and he ran up to his bedroom, because he’d be damned if he let anyone see him do what he felt like he needed to do to shut the voices up.

The pain stemmed the tide, and as he punished himself, he felt the voices recede. This was the beginning of a ritual of sorts; when the voices got too loud, when he felt dark and worthless, and Eliot wasn’t there to pull him out of his dark space, he would add another cut to his list of scars. As a result of this, though, he began wearing long sleeves, hiding all of the cuts and scars. He couldn’t let people see; how would he explain it? At first, he would do it after watching Eliot sleep, or on days he couldn’t lean on Eliot or Margo, but as time went on, his mind began to sink deeper into depravity. It was like there was nothing he could do to stop it; he found himself firmly stuck in a rut of rationalising his decision to watch Eliot sleep night after night, or track him whenever they were apart – _just to make sure he’s safe, of course, that’s all it is –_ and then punish himself for his wrongdoings, as though he were repenting his sins, just so he could sin all over again.

He hated himself for it; Eliot deserved better from a friend, much less a boyfriend, which… that wasn’t even on the table. It only got worse during the short period when Eliot had dated Mike, especially since after they broke up, Mike began making snide comments that told Quentin that he was the reason Eliot and Mike hadn’t lasted. “You were always around, yet Eliot and Margo don’t see that as a problem,” Mike had said to him. Quentin had been incredibly jealous, but tried his best to be supportive. The voices were louder than ever though. _He’ll never be happy with you around. You’re a piece of shit. All you’re good for is pressing that knife to your skin._ He even tried distancing himself from Eliot, to give him space, but it seemed the more he tried, the more Eliot was determined to make sure he wasn’t alone. Eliot could see that Quentin was spiralling and he wanted to help in whatever capacity he could, but there’s only so much he could do for his best friend who he was not even lowkey in love with when said best friend kept isolating himself. If anything, him dating Mike was more a distraction for him, because it hurt him to see how Quentin was hurting and to feel so powerless to make it stop.

After a while, Quentin stopped distancing himself, and for a while the voices quieted, holding back as Quentin and Eliot fell back into a comfortable rhythm with one another. It took a confrontation from Margo, who told Quentin that his distance was really hurting Eliot… and Quentin couldn’t have that. But soon, the depraved, dark side of himself reared its head again, and ironically manifested via a gift from Margo. It was a simple fleshlight, a sex toy meant to “let him get his frustrations out” and “give his hand a break.” Sometimes he would use it as he watched Eliot sleep, but it didn’t take long until that was no longer enough for him. Slowly, an idea crept into his mind. For weeks he tried to stop himself from going through with it, tried to tell himself how wrong it was… but his mind ultimately won.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Dubious consent coming right up.

One night he gathered up the courage to find the right binding spell for his fleshlight, and he made sure it was Eliot that he bound it to. He placed the scrying spell on his mirror once more, expecting to see Eliot already fast asleep, but instead he heard Eliot moan. He could see the shadow of Eliot’s hand moving slowly up and down his cock, and Quentin was amazed by the size of it. He fantasised about getting his mouth on that deliciously large cock, and was about to start using his freshly enchanted fleshlight when he heard Eliot moan out, “Q… Quentin…”

Quentin’s breath hitched and he was immediately hard. He was more determined than ever to use his enchanted fleshlight now, determined to make Eliot feel good, determined to make Eliot call out his name. He slid his cock into the fleshlight, and he heard Eliot gasp in surprise, but not in a bad way. Quentin saw Eliot change position while he was stroking himself so that he was on all fours, as if to make room for the ghost dick that he could feel fucking into him nice and slow.

Eliot was having a mix of feelings in that moment. He should be feeling repulsed, violated, and yet… this felt so good. All he could think about was that he wished this was Quentin fucking him. “Nnngh, please…” he moaned out into the quiet of his room. Quentin couldn’t resist him any longer, taking his time to slowly work Eliot up, fucking into the flashlight (and by extension) Eliot, imagining that Eliot was moaning because he knew what he was getting, and truly wanted it. He couldn’t stop himself, picking up speed and intensity as he went on.

Quentin got himself into roughly the same position as Eliot as he thrust hard into his fleshlight, and he could hear Eliot moan wantonly as he felt it happen while he picked up the pace in stroking his own cock. Quentin heard Eliot continue to call out his name, which drove him ever closer to climax, and before he knew it he was spilling his load into the fleshlight, wishing Eliot could feel it; he didn’t realise that the binding spell was strong enough that Eliot could indeed feel that too, which made _him_ climax.

Quentin had never had an orgasm that hard before. He found himself wondering if it would be that intense to be with Eliot for real. _If only I were braver, Eliot… if only I were strong enough to tell you the truth, to give you the truth of how I feel… but now, after what I’ve done, I don’t think I can ever have that,_ he thought to himself, shivering as he pulled out of the fleshlight once he began to soften.

“… What have I done?” he asked himself out loud, realising that for all intents and purposes, he had actually raped Eliot. Sure, Eliot didn’t know it was him, but… how could he ever face Eliot again? And yet… he found himself doing this again and again, and only during times that Eliot was already horny and needed to jerk off. It was like an impulse, an itch brimming under his skin, but as time progressed, he began to feel worse and worse.

 

Eliot woke the morning after the first ghost-fuck, feeling… well, feeling a multitude of things. What the hell happened last night? Was this his stalker acting out? How did the stalker know what he was doing? And why wasn’t he more repulsed by what happened? He essentially got raped last night, but… ironically he didn’t feel like a victim. He’d… he’d actually enjoyed it. He knew he should be feeling violated, but… that wasn’t it. All he knew for sure, was that he needed to know who his stalker was… and he lowkey hoped it was Quentin. It would certainly explain his behaviour of late; the distancing himself, the fact he only ever wore long sleeves lately… it would explain so much. But… what if it was indeed Quentin? Could he bring himself to hate him for it? Could he bring himself to forgive him for it?

His phone buzzed. It was his stalker again, with a completely different kind of message.

**‘I am so, so sorry. You deserve so much better. – Your Admirer’**

_What the hell is going on with this person?_ Eliot was confused. This was clearly someone he already knew. He eventually got dressed and made his way downstairs to grab breakfast, and saw Quentin in his usual nook. He was a little wrapped up in his own head to go to him, so he headed straight for the kitchen. Quentin saw him come and go, and it put a ten ton weight on his heart. _He’s figured you out. He hates you. He wants nothing more to do with you._

When Eliot was done in the kitchen, he was surprised that Quentin was no longer in his normal nook. In fact, he wasn’t in the main room at all. Margo was looking concerned, but didn’t say anything.

“El… are you alright?” she asked, noticing that he was a little out of sorts.

Quentin had left to go elsewhere, anywhere, he just needed to get some air. He walked around outside, aimlessly, noticing that people were staring since he almost never left the Physical Kids Cottage except on days he had class. He tucked his hands in his pockets, keeping his head down, and his mind as blocked as he could, not wanting any of the psychics to catch wind of anything he was thinking. When he accidentally ran into Mike, exchanging a polite word only for Mike to spout vitriol at him, he went back to the Cottage, slipping in and hoping nobody was in the kitchen. He was a little hungry. As he sat waiting for the microwave to ding with the leftovers out of the fridge, he hugged himself to self-soothe, staring first at the table, and then towards the knife block.

It would be oh so easy to take a knife from the block, and end Eliot’s misery. If he wasn’t around...Eliot would be sad for a while, but he’d find someone better. Someone that wasn’t broken. Someone good. The beeping of the microwave snapped him out of his reverie, his stomach growling as he moved to get his lunch, sitting at the table and not really bothering to let it cool down before he dug in.

Despite not really listening to what Eliot and Margo were talking about, Quentin felt nonetheless soothed by their presence. "Oh! I know just the thing to perk you up, Q..." Margo began. Quentin looked up at her with a face that briefly said 'oh no', but he swallowed his mouthful of quesadilla so he could speak.

"Really? What's that then?"

"A nice picnic out on the lawn, just us three. Things have been crazy with class lately, and... well, we miss you a little bit," Margo confessed, reaching out a hand for Quentin to take.

 

Quentin blushed a little. "Y-Yeah? I've missed you guys too, a lot," he admitted, taking her hand gently once he had re-adjusted his hold on his quesadilla, "a picnic would be nice, but uh... we probably should avoid the front area. I had a run-in with Mike out there earlier, and he's seemingly poking around out there now, so it might just be better to use the back-area?" he asked, which also served the purpose of being well out of range of the Psychics, so no one would notice if he thought things about Eliot.

 

"Ugh. Mike. You know the reason I broke up with him is because he couldn't stand how much I love having you around, Q," Eliot said, also by way of confession, stroking some of Quentin's hair behind his ear. _Oh thank god you don't hate me El... I would rather die a thousand deaths than live in a world where you hate me-_ Quentin took a deep breath and smiled a loving smile at Eliot.

 

"Yeah, I was gonna say I'm sorry that didn't work out but- I don't know, I guess you're better off without the jealous type, El. You deserve better than that," Quentin said, taking a bite out of his quesadilla, "that guy fuckin hates me."

 

Margo raised an eyebrow at Quentin, as if asking for him to elaborate. He shifted a little. "He said it was my fault they broke up, because I was "always around like a creeper, and Margo and Eliot don't seem to give a shit." He also called me a few choice names that I'd rather not repeat, and… he made a reference to that gross human centipede movie," he continued, and shivered a little. "Oh and he may have threatened to kick my teeth in if I didn't steer clear of him, which... suits me fine?" He was completely honest, and though it was the pot calling the kettle black, he really didn't think Mike was all that stable. Margo and Eliot both looked at Quentin in shock.

 

"Aww hell no, nobody fucks with our Q and gets away with it," Margo said, getting angry, "betcha he's the guy stalking you, Eliot."

 

"It really wouldn't surprise me in all fairness," Quentin corroborated, relieved that he wasn't suspected at all.

 

"Please, I'd rather it weren't," Eliot muttered, deliberately not adding, _'I'd much rather it were Quentin._ '

 

Quentin shrugged a little. "Either way, maybe it is best that we don't antagonize him? I mean, if I just stay out of his way, he won't bother us, but also like... we can't just accuse him of being your stalker without proof, right?" he shrugged. He was trying to make sure that they didn't go after Mike; he couldn't risk Mike trying to implicate him, being a dick, or generally trying to hurt Eliot. "So, maybe we just enjoy that picnic instead?'

 

"You've got a point, Coldwater. But if he even tries to come after you, I'm gonna battle magic the shit outta him, you got it?" Margo vowed.

"We both will, love. You don't deserve the vitriol he's been spewing at you; it's uncalled for," Eliot said, wrapping an arm around Quentin. Quentin felt his heart burst out of his chest; he felt he didn't deserve the love and protection Eliot and Margo were offering, but he was incredibly thankful for it nonetheless.

"Thank you guys, you're the best," Quentin said, fighting back tears.

 

He couldn't resist leaning into Eliot a little, careful to not get quesadilla crumbs on his outfit as he finished his food. _Enjoy this while it lasts… when they figure out the real you, all of this will burn away,_ the voice in his head whispered darkly. He swallowed a little. He loved them so much, but the voice was right, eventually it would all go away, and he'd be alone again, probably in some Magician prison without magic or outside privileges.

 

"Hey, I don't know what you're saying right now but shut up, Q's Brain," Margo said, which made Quentin laugh. How is it that she knew exactly when he was being made to think dark thoughts? He was engulfed in a group hug between Eliot and Margo and he allowed himself to bask in their warmth.

 

The voices dissipated, and he found himself relaxing, tension from days prior melting away as he just let himself enjoy it. Sure, if he got locked away or something, he'd always have these memories of them... unless they wiped his memory, but then again, even if that happened, maybe he would still remember, on some level. His love for Eliot couldn't be taken away. Quentin then briefly realized something.

 

"Hey, weren't you guys supposed to go to Encanto Oculto or something this week? Did you cancel... for me?" he asked, a bit confused.

 

"Honey, Encanto Oculto will always be around, there will be other years; it'll be fine without us. We're putting you first because we want to, because we love you," Margo said, kissing Quentin's temple.

 

"Yeah, also I just... feel safer here at the moment, considering the whole stalker thing," Eliot added, "and I want you to feel safe too."

 

Quentin could have cried in that moment. He knew Ibiza was important to them, but they were staying for him? He blushed a little.

 

"I love you guys too," he admitted honestly, "and don't you worry El, no one could get ya while I'm around," he attempted with a bright smile, even though he _was_ the stalker in question.

"I know, Q. I have good faith that you're a man of many hidden talents," Eliot said softly as a way of teasing-slash-flirting with him. Eliot didn't just lowkey hope Quentin was the perp; he highkey hoped it was, because he knew Quentin, and a part of his mind just really wanted it to be true.

 

Quentin blushed at that. "And some not so hidden, like that time your pants ripped and I fixed it before anyone noticed," he grinned playfully.

 

"I had not heard _that_ story..." Margo looked at Eliot with a teasing grin.

"Well, technically I wasn't supposed to say, but... I know you're not gonna judge either of us for it," Quentin answered, his worries temporarily forgotten.

 

As they continued to engage in their witty banter, the mood had lifted significantly, most of all for Quentin; he was already feeling perked up and he was ready to just sit in the sun and enjoy a relaxed afternoon with his best friends. That night, Quentin partook in his ritual spelling of the mirror and the fleshlight, and a surprising plot twist occurred: Quentin received a text to his pay as you go phone, the one he used to send Eliot anonymous messages.

 

**'Talk dirty to me. - El'**

 

Quentin blinked a little bit. He wasn't sure what to do; Eliot had never responded to a message before.

 

 **‘Does it turn you on? To know that I enjoy you when you're alone? To know that it is my cock filling you each night? - Your Admirer,’** he sent back, blushing a bit, deciding to play a little, teasing the tip of his cock against the opening of the toy. He sent a second message, **‘Do you like knowing I can see you?’**

 

Eliot read the messages and he took a look around, his heart beating faster with anticipation.

"If you can see me... Can you hear me too?" He said out loud in curiosity, and barely five seconds later, he received the message:

 

**'Loud and clear. I love hearing and seeing you get off without me needing to touch you. - Your Admirer'**

 

"Who are you?" Eliot once again asked out loud.

 

 **'I'm whoever you want me to be. - Your Admirer,'** came the written reply.

 

Quentin wondered if he should tell Eliot more; explain his reasoning for not telling his identity. Instead he opted for, **‘I can't tell you who I am, but I can tell you that I love you, and you are the most beautiful man in the world to me. - Your admirer.’** He teased the toy with the tip of his cock again, just wanting to see if Eliot was game for a bit of fun.

 

Quentin was surprised to see that Eliot could feel the teasing he was doing; he was egged on by Eliot's moans.

 

"Unh, you're such a tease..." Eliot said out loud, and then grabbed his phone to text:

 

**'Do you wanna watch me touch myself? - El'**

 

**'Yes. Please, touch yourself for me. - Your Admirer'**

 

Eliot then did as he was asked, and he slowly began to tease his own hardening cock.

 

**'You have such a deliciously large cock, one day I'd love to feel it inside me. For real. - Your Admirer'**

**'How can I do that when you won't tell me who you are? - El'**

 

Quentin stilled at that. _Shit._

 

**'What if I promised, two weeks from now, to tell you who I am? - Your Admirer'**

 

"Is this an... _ohhh fuck_ , situation where you say two weeks, and then after that you say in two more?" Eliot asks aloud. Quentin answers without hesitation.

 

**‘No, I won't lie to you. Ever. - Your Admirer’**

**‘If you want, until then, we can text like this regularly...’** Quentin offers in a second text, figuring that if he was going to tell Eliot, he wanted to enjoy this while he still could. He slowly eased himself into the fleshlight, letting Eliot feel every inch.

 

"Mmmmm... fuck... I'd like that a lot- oh god you feel so good..." Eliot gasped out loud as he felt Quentin ease into him inch by inch.

 

**'One day I hope we can do this for real. If only you knew how long I've wanted to kiss you, caress you, get my mouth on that delicious cock... - Your Admirer'**

 

Quentin could see the flush on Eliot's cheeks, as it crept down his neck a bit. One hand worked the fleshlight as he fucked into it, while his other hand typed out another message.

 

**‘If you were mine, you'd never need to worry about anything. I would take such good care of you, and cherish you the way you deserve... -Your Admirer’**

 

He groaned quietly, moving faster into the toy; it was so much hotter to have Eliot be a willing participant, so... maybe he got off on consent? Who knew?

 

Eliot read the message over and over. He'd love someone to take care of him. He'd love someone to cherish him. He'd love that someone to be Quentin. He was jerking himself off even faster, imagining that he was getting fucked by Quentin and groaning out loud, "yes- unh, right there, yes- Quentin-"

 

Objectively, Quentin wondered if by not saying that he _wasn't_ Quentin, that maybe it gave him away regardless? He fucked him harder, knowing that as hot as this was, he wasn't going to last very long.

 

**‘Mmm, ready for my cum babe? - Your Admirer’**

 

He shifted a little to a better position, wanting to fuck the fleshlight harder. This was blurring the lines between what he wanted so badly, and what he could never have, it was intoxicating.

 

"Please... Quentin... fill me up," Eliot replied out loud, and not long afterwards, Quentin spilled his load into the fleshlight, knowing Eliot could feel every drop, and rocked slowly until he was completely spent. Eliot, being able to feel it all, also didn't last much longer before he came, all over his hand and torso.

 

**'God I'd love to lick all that cum off of you... - Your Admirer'**

 

"Would you lick the cum from my hole too?" Eliot asked, which made Quentin groan.

 

 **‘I'd do anything for you. Anything you wanted.’** Quentin answered without hesitation.

 

After they had both managed to calm themselves down, Quentin pulled out of the fleshlight and cleaned up a bit, before curling in bed. He and Eliot texted a little longer, and surprisingly Quentin found himself dozing off before too long. Was this what being with Eliot would be like? Peaceful? Loving? If only he could have this for real. Two weeks from now it all would end.

 

"I can't wait to find out who you are... Goodnight, Admirer. Sweet dreams," Eliot said breathlessly, out loud before shifting to settle down to sleep.

 

 **'Goodnight, my love. - Your Admirer,'** was the final text of the night, and Quentin dozed off into a contented, dreamless sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Big Reveal: Quentin finally comes clean, with... baffling results.
> 
> Oh! And spot the lyrics that inspired the fic!

Those two weeks had passed, with multiple nights following the same routine; Eliot texted his ~~stalker~~ Admirer every day, by way of trying to guess who it was, judging by the texting style. Quentin had made a point not to mention back rubs, because he feared Eliot would have sussed him out if he had. In the night though, the texts would get filthy and shameless between them, and Eliot always called out Quentin's name mid-coitus without realising he was right on the money. In the meantime, Quentin had offered to put a tracking spell on Eliot's favourite silver moonstone ring, just in case Mike were ever to try to approach him and cause trouble, which Eliot graciously accepted.

Quentin was to be found in the kitchen, waiting for his quesadilla to be done heating up in the microwave, and his mind decided it would be funny to attack him again.  _You've corrupted him. You've broken him pretty much the same way you ended up broken. It's a never ending cycle. When you tell him it was you, it's all over. He'll never forgive you for breaking him. He'll cast you away and you'll end up alone. Again. Take the knife. Take it and sink it deep into your skin until you lose consciousness. He's better off without you, you disgusting worthless piece of shit-_

"I'm disgusting... I deserve to die... He'll be better off without me..." Quentin muttered to himself as he slowly reached for the knife lying on the counter. _In your name I have d_ _one so much more than you would ever care to know, I'd disappoint you if you knew all of these dire things I've done,_ Quentin sang in his head like a prayer, thinking of Eliot, hoping it would distract him from the voices.

"Q?" The sound of Eliot's voice snapped him out of his dark spiral and he turned around quickly. Eliot had been standing there a while and he heard everything.

"Eliot! Hey... what's wrong?" Quentin asked, trying to stay casual.

"I could ask you the same thing... but um, there's something I wanted to talk to you about, actually," Eliot replied, feeling a little nervous, "um, I think it's better if I just show you..." Eliot grabbed his phone from his back pocket, and Quentin silently panicked. _Shit. Two weeks. It's been two whole weeks already. You promised him two weeks and you'd tell him. Moment of truth, Quentin._

"Not here... come with me to my room? Lunch can wait," Quentin said, taking Eliot's hand and almost dragging him upstairs. Eliot, of course, went willingly, because indeed, this was not a conversation they wanted anybody to eavesdrop on.

"About damn time! Don't do anything I wouldn't, boys," Margo called teasingly. _It's a bit late for that but thanks Margo._

 

Quentin and Eliot made it into Quentin's room, and since Quentin was the last to enter, he opted to lock the door behind him. Eliot raised an eyebrow as though to ask him why he did that.

"No interruptions. This is... something I'd hate for anyone to walk in on, ya know?" Quentin explained, making his way toward his bed, beckoning Eliot to join him.

"No, I know. I get it. I trust you, Q," Eliot said, and then he made once more to unlock his phone to pull up the text messages from the last two weeks. "OK so, um… I've been texting my stalker, and um... things have been getting... steamy. It's kinda weird; he would only do... that... if he knew I was in the mood for it?"

"Do what?" Quentin was acting like he didn't know what Eliot was talking about purely to see what Eliot's take on the situation was.

"OK so- the first time it happened- I got- my stalker ghost-fucked me, ok? And- I can't even bring myself to call it rape, because… somehow, the stalker knew I was in the mood for it, like, I was masturbating at the time, but- I know I should feel gross and violated but... it felt good? And then it happened more often, and only ever when he knew I was up for it, so I kinda... I decided to text him. My Admirer. And um..." Eliot then showed Quentin the texts.

Quentin could feel himself tear up; it felt so weird seeing his own texts on someone else's phone. So what he did was, without saying a word, give Eliot his phone back, reach over to his bedside drawer to grab his own pay as you go phone, and open up the messages he'd sent to Eliot, and show him. Eliot compared the messages, and saw that they were identical. He quietly muttered a “holy shit…” to himself.

"Eliot I'm so sorry, you deserve so much better than this, you're better off without me…" Quentin began, tears forming in his eyes and his head hanging low from the overwhelming feeling of shame. Quentin looked impossibly small, curling up in the fetal position, his hair hiding his face, much like he had been the first time Eliot saw him break. "P-Please… don't hate me. You can tell people what I did, let them expel me, let them wipe my memory or send me to Brakebills South forever just- please, I couldn't handle knowing you hated me," Quentin croaked, rocking back and forth as he trembled harder than he had since coming to Brakebills. "I know I- I- I'm disgusting, worthless, broken, I just... What I did was horrible, and I just really need you not to hate me, because I hate me already-"

"Quentin, stop. I need to think, and process all of this, please…" Eliot interrupted, holding his hand up in a 'let me speak' gesture, looking straight at Quentin. He let out a big sigh, and held his head in his hands as he thought all of this over. For a brief moment, he felt everything he knew he was supposed to be feeling; his privacy had been invaded in many ways. He'd been violated multiple times. He felt a little disgusted with it all, but more so with himself because he'd enjoyed the violation, and he'd read over those raunchy texts over and over again, letting his own imagination run wild with them. But now he knew who the culprit was, he felt… relieved? This was clearly either Stockholm Syndrome, or his own intense love for Quentin speaking… or perhaps a combination of both. Either way, he couldn't bring himself to resent Quentin in any way, for any of the things he'd done. He was glad to finally know who it was. And on top of that, he was glad it was _Quentin._ He was glad to know that - as extreme as this entire incident was - Quentin loved him with as much intensity as he loved Quentin. Somehow, he'd miraculously got his dark wish. He took a deep breath, and looked at the man he loved, his heart breaking for the spiral of self-loathing Quentin had himself caught in.

"Quentin… Q… for what it's worth, I just wanna say… thank fuck it was you," he said, approaching Quentin and placing a consoling hand on his shoulder, "I mean- this is gonna sound Stockholmy as hell but… between you and me, if it were anybody else, all of this would have had me terrified. And this definitely explains why you tried to distance yourself from me back then," Eliot paused as he looked down, "I heard you earlier, in the kitchen... that. That hurt. It hurt me, to see how much this was making you hate yourself... but, I do have questions." Eliot turned his head once more to look at Quentin, who looked back at him in shock and awe. He couldn't believe how well Eliot was taking this.

"Uhm. Yeah, of course, ask away," Quentin said, inviting him to ask, because he wanted more than anything to get it all out in the open, at last.

"How... how did it manage to get this far? Oh, and just to make it absolutely clear, it _was_ also you who's been ghost-fucking me these past few weeks, right?" Eliot began with, and made Quentin laugh despite himself.

"Yes, that was me too, and uhm... yeah, I couldn't say. All I can tell you is... it possibly began with the candid photography, which I made into, um..." Quentin moved to reveal his shrine to Eliot, his first descent into madness, "this. I know, it's a bit weird, but... I don't know, you've always had a way of silencing the noise in my head, I guess? On a particularly restless night I'd light a candle and just... it would help me zen out enough to sleep," Quentin explained, breaking his gaze to look up at Eliot, who had slowly followed him down to the nook where the shrine was kept so he could take a closer look.

"You built a shrine? For little old me?" Eliot asked, acknowledging and also completely disregarding how Stockholmy he sounded, and just embracing how flattered he felt by Quentin. Completely forgetting for a moment about all the scars on his arms, Quentin felt a little hot and flustered, so he took off his long-sleeved shirt, leaving his tarnished forearms bare.

"Yep... and then came the texts..." Quentin said, "I felt like I could never have told you to your face how I feel about you, and... I wanted you to know, so..." Quentin shrugged. Eliot took Quentin's hand and kissed it softly. Eliot then went to stroke Quentin's arm... It was then that Eliot felt the scars. Quentin swallowed hard, noticing the look on Eliot's face.

"Look, I just need to say this, because it has been rattling around in my head for a bit, and if I don't, then I'm gonna freak out," he admitted quietly, "I... it started with just the texts, and then you came and you told me how it weirded you out, and those voices in my head started circling. I... I never wanted to freak you out, but every time I tried to talk about how I feel for you, I just... I'd freeze. You can ask Margo, she _tried_ to get me to open up. I would have a full on panic attack because, I... I’m so crazy in love with you Eliot," he swallowed again, "I love you so much- it must be scary, and I understand that. But the more that things progressed, the more I realized how fucked up I am, how broken, how… gross," he pulled his hand back and shifted to the bed, curling up a bit, his hair blocking his view.

"I... as sad and pathetic as it is, you and Margo are all I've got. You're the only ones that make me feel safe, but... I understand that I've done things that violated your trust, your privacy, and... worse," his throat tightened a bit as he trembled a little, "so... if you want to tell Fogg it was me, that I did this... I won't be angry. I'll accept whatever you want to do to me. Hit me, have them wipe my memory, just... please, don't hate me?" his voice broke, as he curled in on himself, "the knife... it was a way for me to punish myself for what I’ve done, but it isn't enough. I don't _deserve_ you, or your love, or forgiveness. I did these things, and... hell, maybe Mike is right. Maybe I am a piece of shit who should have died a long time ago."

  
He hadn't told Eliot that Mike had said that to him, because he knew what it would do to Eliot. Now though, it was only right. "And the fucked up thing is... these past two weeks, were the best of my life. Sleeping well, feeling loved... even if you didn't entirely know it was me... how fucked up is that? What is _wrong_ with me?" He was in a similar position to how Eliot had seen him the first time he had broken, before they were ever really friends. "I'm so sorry El..." he whispered, his voice somewhat wrecked.

Eliot looked on at Quentin, and... considering all the things that had happened between them, he knew he _should_ hate him. So... why the fuck _doesn't_ he?

  
"Q... I… I’m in love with you too. I-" Eliot cut himself off, not knowing where to go from here, "you heard me call out your name, every single time. I don't know how, but... that has to have been a sign, surely?"

"I think... I think I just really wanted it to be, it- it made me feel less of an asshole for what I was doing… to you," Quentin said.

"And maybe... honestly Q I just really wanted it to be you. And- I guess... I guess I got my wish," Eliot replied, "so… where do we go from here? I'm not getting rid of you; I could never forgive myself if I did that. We'll just... pin this on Mike and then we'll both be safe."

"You'd- you'd do that? For me?" Quentin asked, in awe. His brain then caught up with the rest of what Eliot said. "Pin it on Mike? I mean... he is an asshole..." he sniffled a little, wiping his eyes, "um, I understand if you don't want me to touch you right now, but I think we could both use a hug? Also, I really need to thank you, because my brain was thinking up all sorts of scenarios that put me in some Magician prison, and after being locked in closets as a foster kid I- I just really don't like tight spaces," he admitted quietly, "and... I did hear you calling my name, but I don't trust myself. I thought that if the voices were telling me how worthless I am, then there was no _way_ you could actually want me... I thought that maybe despite every sound, you were hoping that I would save you from your..." he barely managed to choke out "...rapist." Eliot let out a hollow laugh.

"Please. No rapist ever waits for their victim to be in the mood, Quentin," Eliot tried to joke, but he felt himself tear up and approached Quentin to engulf him in the biggest tightest hug he could muster. Quentin then let go of all the emotion he was holding back and he continued to repeat "I'm sorry" to Eliot, who did everything he could to comfort Quentin. He understood that yeah, he wasn't behaving like a victim of stalking ought to - he'd been through this before, and yet he'd never seen a perp so remorseful. He understood that he was incredibly biased because this was Quentin, his precious Quentin, and he understood that what Quentin was feeling was genuine. He couldn't find it in his heart to hold any resentment at all for Quentin. He just held Quentin until he calmed down enough to speak.

"Can I ask you something?" Eliot was still curious about one thing, "how did you make the ghost-fucking work?"

Quentin couldn't help but let out a watery laugh at that. "Oh uh, would you believe me if I said the spell was out of one of Mayakovsky's books? Because uh, I may have been poking around, looking for a spell for class, when I found it," he blushed a little, "also um, I should apologize, for lying about the reason for the tracking spell. I just... get anxious when I can't see you, or I don’t know where you are, so… knowing that you're not stuck somewhere is... comforting."

He hid his face in Eliot's shoulder, just breathing him in a little. "But um… you could totally ghost-fuck me sometime if you want. I mean, if you want me like that after... all of this," he hugged Eliot a little tighter. "I just, I need you to know that I don't _ever_ want to hurt you, and I know that people say stalkers do end up doing things like that, but I'll end myself before that happens. I... I couldn't bear it, if you were scared of me."

Eliot was speechless; there were so many things he wanted to say, but where to start?

"Oh Q... you sweetheart. The rational part of my brain wants to say this was extreme and that I should hate you, be scared of you, feel violated by you or... whatever. But the truth is, I'm not feeling any of that. Hey... come here," he said, pulling away just enough to make sure he and Quentin made eye contact. He placed his hand on the back of Quentin's neck, and kissed him softly. Quentin almost melted into the kiss but pulled away.

"Eliot, I can't- I don't deserve you. I- this is all I ever wanted but… after all this, I don't deserve it. I'm a monster," Quentin protested, still stuck in self-loathing.

"No, Q. Monsters hurt people for fun, and they show no remorse. You? You love me and you've proven it time and time again, albeit in… unconventional ways,” Eliot paused for a moment, then said, “Look. We're both idiots here, okay? If I knew just how much you love me, if I knew you felt the same way about me as I have done about you for so long, I'd have kissed you so much sooner and none of this would have even needed to happen-"

"Oh no no no, you do not get to blame yourself for this Eliot-" Quentin said, starting to pull back, but Eliot held onto him and put a finger to his lips.

"Sshhh, sweetheart,” Eliot said, shushing Quentin to calm him down, “I'm not scared of you. I want to take care of you, just like you want to take care of me. I can't do that if you keep pushing me away. This can all end, if you promise me just one thing."

Quentin looked at Eliot, his eyes seeming big and doe-like. "Anything," he answered quietly, shifting a little closer so he could curl his fingers in Eliot's shirt, watching him as he waited for Eliot to tell him what he needed him to promise. The voices in his head were still swirling, but... for some reason he was able to block it out. Maybe it was because he could focus on Eliot, the feeling of him, the warmth, the fact that whether he deserved it or not, Eliot was trying to make sure he felt loved and understood. How did this turn from Quentin being a monster to Eliot being so... incredible?

"Be my boyfriend," Eliot said simply, and Quentin saw nothing but love and sincerity in his eyes, "and show me those spells for the ghost-fucking; we could have so much more fun if that goes both ways," he added by way of teasing-slash-flirting.

Quentin blushed, "oh my god, you're never letting me live that down are you? Alright fine, consider it done. And... don't I still owe you a back rub? I, uh... I got massage oil..." Quentin added, still blushing.

Just like that, the voices went away, at least for the moment. "Also, Mayakovsky's notes say that the binding spell I used can also be used on dildos, so... we could try that sometime?" Quentin added as an afterthought, brushing his hand over the scars on his arm, a little self-conscious about them. He then hugged Eliot tightly again. "I love you," he added, still unsure how he had managed to get out of this unscathed, but... then again, Eliot was a special kind of magic. He chased away the darkness and... well, now Quentin had his first boyfriend, who knew?

"I love you too, Q. What about seeing and hearing me though? Sorry babe, I have to ask; if we're going both ways with this, I need to know _everything_. Fuck trauma, I'm having fun with this," Eliot said, getting excited.

"Oh that was a scrying spell on my bedside mirror. Easy peasy," Quentin explained simply with a cheeky grin.

"That... is genius. So simple yet so effective... we're gonna have so much fun," Eliot said, not holding back on the flirting as he kissed Quentin once more.

"Mmmmm, this is all I ever wanted, El," Quentin murmured against Eliot's lips.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Actual consensual smut this time, starting with a full body massage. Quentin makes a point always to ask if what he's doing is okay, driving Eliot a little bit nuts.

"You know, I could teach you the spell, and we could use hand mirrors like phones if we had to be apart for some period of time. Mirror magic is tricky, but I've kinda gotten the hang of it a little? I guess I got motivated because I couldn't sleep, and seeing you sleeping so peacefully made me relax," Quentin pointed out between kisses, before giggling as he was hauled into Eliot's lap for more smooching. He loved that Eliot was excited, even though he probably should be concerned. Eliot was everything, and in that moment Quentin couldn't be happier. "Ya never answered me about that massage though..." Quentin teased.

"I'd love a massage, Q... wanna help me undress?" Eliot asked, putting on his seductive voice.

" _Gods yes_..." Quentin breathed as he hesitantly moved his hands to start work on unbuttoning Eliot's waistcoat, while Eliot took off his tie. While he was helping Eliot undress, Quentin had a thought.

"My turn to ask a question. Did you like me talking dirty to you during our text conversations? Is that, um, something you'd want? In our relationship? As we’ve clearly determined with this entire incident, I'm phenomenally bad at boundaries, so I'm trying to set things straight before we- well, neither of us are straight, but you get my point," he attempted to joke, his mouth going dry as more of Eliot's skin was exposed, "you're so beautiful El..." he whispered reverently, brushing a kiss against the spot above Eliot's heart, sliding the waistcoat and the undershirt off carefully.

"I'm always down for dirty talk, babe..." Eliot said, watching Quentin as he stood up and held his hands out for Eliot to take, helping him up. Eliot kissed Quentin once more, and made to lie down on Quentin's bed, ready for the massage of his life.

"Ok, before we start. Do you want me to just massage your back? Or do you want a more... full-body experience?" Quentin asked, looking Eliot up and down, needing to get permission as he got on the bed and grabbed the bottle of massage oil, "no pressure, just curious. I mean, we're doing this for real this time, so I wanna make sure I give you what you need." He leaned down, brushing his lips against the back of Eliot's shoulder, making a few more kisses along his shoulder blade. He started off by slicking his hands with a little oil, then started with the back of Eliot's neck and shoulders. "Good so far?"

"Mmm... _so good_ , Q... you can press a little harder if you like..." Eliot said, his voice giving away how blissful he felt, considering everything that had been discussed. Quentin did as he was told and applied some more pressure to Eliot's shoulders, eliciting a pleased moan and a "Yeesss, that's the stuff," from Eliot. Quentin decided that he would just focus on what Eliot wanted for right now, so he did exactly what he had done before; pressing in places that he knew carried tension.

"There's more tension than normal, which… I’m not surprised by, but still okay?" he asked, working on a knot with the heel of his hand, kissing the back of Eliot's neck before he moved a little lower. "Tell me if I push too hard?"

"You're doing an amazing job, sweetheart. Keep going," Eliot said as he relaxed into Quentin's touch, "don't be afraid to venture further with those magic hands..."

Quentin blushed. 'Magic hands,' that was quite the compliment considering he wasn't even a trained or qualified masseur. Quentin really loved caressing Eliot's bare skin like this; he was like a kid in a candy store. He'd fantasised about doing this on many nights, and now it's finally happening for real.

"Man, if you knew how long I've wanted to do this..." Quentin began.

"You could have just said so, babe; this feels _divine_ ," Eliot replied.

"Thank you..." Quentin said, blushing once more.

 

He briefly thought back to how this came to be, and he was frankly mind-blown; he was terrified he would lose Eliot, in fact he fully expected to lose him after all that he'd done. But in actual fact, Eliot had turned around and confessed his love to him, _and_ taken up his offer of a massage. Quentin just knew that this is not how confronting your stalker usually went. But as Eliot said, they were already close, and for lack of a better way that Quentin knew to express his love for Eliot... this happened. Quentin knew that what he did was fucked up, and he may never truly forgive himself for it, but he was amazed at how quick Eliot was to forgive him and help him cover it up.

A part of him still worried that Eliot was just saying that to ease his mind, only to screw him over later on, but that was swiftly blocked out by the overwhelming feeling of love and gratitude he felt towards Eliot just for being so kind to him for all this time. And better yet - they were boyfriends! Actual boyfriends! It was a dream come true for Quentin. "How did I get so lucky?" Quentin muttered out loud to himself.

"I think in this moment I'm the lucky one, _ohhh right there_!" Eliot groaned lewdly, a particularly stubborn knot being worked out by Quentin's skilled hands, "damn... maybe we need to make this a part of our day, just you… getting your hands, _all over_ me."

Quentin couldn't help but smile at that. "Anytime you want this, El… I'm yours," he promised, slowly working on Eliot's back until he was right at the top of Eliot's ass. "Can I um, take your pants off?" he asked carefully, unsure of himself in light of all that happened. "If you want this massage to go a little more... I dunno, sexy?" he added shyly.

"Ugh, that means getting up..." Eliot groaned, "buuuut… I _really_ want those hands all over me… so I suppose it's worth it," he continued by way of weighing out his options, before getting up to help Quentin remove his slacks and boxers. He then lay back down to let Quentin work his magic.

"Is it okay if I strip too? This massage oil gets _everywhere_ if I keep most of my clothes on and it’s a bitch to wash out," he admitted with a blush. The sight of Eliot naked though took his breath away, and before he did _anything_ he just let his hands dip down, brushing his fingers reverently against Eliot's beautiful ass. "God… I could write poems about your ass El, do you even know how perfect, and how beautiful you are?" he asked breathlessly, starting to massage his asscheeks, taking his time to give them the attention they deserved.

"Mmm, Q... I don't know what it'll take to get you on top of me but if it's easier for you, do it," Eliot said, blatantly inviting Quentin to get closer, "your hands are a thing to be worshipped, sweetheart."

Quentin stripped faster than he could ever remember stripping, straddling Eliot's legs as he leaned in to whisper in Eliot's ear, " _you, my love, are a being to be worshipped, and I fully intend to do so,_ " he purred softly, before his hands went back to continuing their work, caressing and touching, spreading Eliot's asscheeks, and before he could stop himself, he nuzzled his face in a little, before he pulled back. "No, that comes a little later, if you want it," he purred. He then moved to start massaging the backs of Eliot's thighs, rubbing and massaging carefully. "Still good?" he asked, with a seductive undertone to his voice.

"Goddamnit Q, you tease! You'd better get back there later... fuck," Eliot moaned wantonly. Quentin giggled a little at the effect he was having on Eliot as he continued to massage nice and slow, sometimes pressing hard just to hear Eliot moan.

Quentin was just happy that Eliot was enjoying himself, that's really all he wanted. His pleasure was secondary at this point. Eliot deserved the world. Once he made his way down to Eliot's calves and feet, he made his way back up.

"Mmm, can I have a taste?" he asked playfully, kissing each of Eliot's asscheeks gently, "You've got such a beautiful ass El, can't wait to be inside you for real..."

"You'd better get your tongue down there... and I'd love to have you inside me for real... sooner rather than later, even if I have to jump you myself," Eliot said, and groaned when Quentin did as he was told, and began licking at Eliot's entrance.

 

Quentin had envisioned this a lot, so he found himself more enthusiastic than Eliot might expect. He went to town on Eliot, eating him out hungrily and with enthusiasm that (he hoped) Mike did not possess. He had heard Mike and Eliot fuck a few times, and it pissed him off, because Mike was very... selfish, if what he heard was any indication. No matter though, now Eliot was Quentin's to pleasure, to service, to worship. He focused on the task at hand, eager to make Eliot moan, and feel pleasure beyond his wildest dreams. His penance would be making sure that Eliot had everything he could ever want.

"Mmm, Q... your mouth, my cock, now," Eliot panted out, and as he felt Quentin pull away, he turned over and moved so he was sitting on the edge of the bed. He pulled Quentin towards him by the back of the neck so he could kiss him filthily, and he guided Quentin's head down to his cock as he added, “just like you wanted, if I recall correctly.”

Quentin of course went willingly, smirking at Eliot remembering the texts he sent him, and before he began to tease Eliot's cock with his tongue he made sure to let Eliot know, "don't hold back. If you wanna get rough with me, get rough with me. I can take it," and so he licked all the way up Eliot's shaft and teased, "you know I love how deliciously huge your cock is, right? I wanted to have you in my mouth so many times, especially when you wear those _shorts_ ," Quentin practically moaned, before sucking Eliot deep, worshiping his cock desperately, with a hunger and enthusiasm he knew Eliot wouldn't be expecting. He made sure to play with Eliot's balls at the same time, making sure to be extra careful but also firm enough that Eliot would enjoy it.

"Holy shit Q... you're so incredible... _ooohhh yes just like that_..." Eliot gasped out, wondering why the hell Quentin hadn't thought of ghost-blowing him while he was at it; he was in heaven already, and he couldn't wait to find out what Quentin’s cock felt like really inside him.

Quentin _had_ thought about ghost-blowing him, but only a few days prior. He had wondered if Eliot would have liked that better than being fucked. Either way, he fully focused his attention on pleasuring Eliot, and before he knew it, his face was pressed against Eliot's well-groomed pubes, while he sucked and swallowed, deep throating him effortlessly.

"Mmmmm, not gonna last Q..." Eliot warned as he thrust deep into Quentin's mouth, not stopping until he came hard, shooting right down Quentin's throat, who had no choice but to swallow it all, which he gladly did. Eliot then pulled Quentin towards him once more, kissed him with an insatiable hunger as if he needed to prove to Quentin just how much he wanted him and for how long. They continued making out like this, Quentin moving to straddle Eliot's hips so he could grind against him.

Quentin rocked against Eliot, moaning against Eliot's mouth. "Love you so much El, you taste _so_ good, and I can't get enough," he groaned, his hands wandering as he tried to make sure that he kept worshipping and touching Eliot. He never wanted Eliot to regret this. He was on cloud nine, and this, this was better than anything he'd ever had.

"Love you too babe... now, please, _please_ , just fuck me. For real," Eliot said between kisses, which elicited a whimper from Quentin because _this was actually happening_ , and he didn't need to be told twice. He gently pushed Eliot down so he was lying on his back, rocked against him some more just to be a tease, and performed a lubrication spell on Eliot, before taking hold of his own rock solid cock and teasing Eliot's entrance with it. The familiar yet more intense feeling sent shivers down Eliot's spine.

Quentin was very careful, and eased himself deep into Eliot, taking his time so he wouldn't hurt or overwhelm him.

"Mmm, I love you so much... _god_ you feel incredible!" he groaned, starting to make slow, careful thrusts, as his hands moved to Eliot's hips, just to give himself a bit of leverage. " _Eliot_ " He moaned, feeling the warmth, and tightness of Eliot around him. It was like a drug he never wanted to stop taking.

"Holy fucking- fuck, Q... that feels even better... you can go harder if you like..." Eliot said, resting his palms flat on Quentin's chest and then snaking them around the back of his neck to pull him down for more hungry kisses.

 

Eliot's encouragement was all Quentin needed. He kept thrusting, going harder as Eliot wanted, while kissing him passionately. Eventually they reached a pace where the bed was rocking against the wall, as Quentin gave Eliot everything he had. "Fuck, El, so fucking good..." He growled, sucking on Eliot's bottom lip as he fucked into him wildly.

"Yes Q- Right there, yes, don't stop- fuck-" Eliot gasped between thrusts as he held Quentin closer, and he loved that he was finally able to hold Quentin close like this.

He hadn't even begun to let Quentin into what he'd fantasised about, because this was all about Quentin making his confession, and redeeming himself – which, by the way, Eliot felt unnecessary - and if this is how they cleared the air between them and moved forward from this incident, then so be it. However Stockholmy this would appear to others - not that it was anyone else's business what went on between them, of course - this was _their_ thing.

"El- gonna cum- can I cum inside you? Please?" Quentin asked as he edged ever closer to climax.

"Fill me right up, Q," Eliot replied, "need you..."

 

Quentin continued to thrust into Eliot and took Eliot's cock in his hand to stroke for extra good measure, wanting Eliot to feel as good as he did. Quentin tried to make sure that he didn't cum before Eliot did, pacing himself so that he was giving constant stimulation to Eliot, stroking him firmly while his cock pressed hard into Eliot's prostate.

"Cum for me, please..." he groaned, though he wound up losing the struggle, as he came hard, filling Eliot up and moaning wantonly. "Fuck! Eliot!" He couldn't hold himself back, sucking a mark on Eliot's shoulder as he filled him completely.

"Almost... there... fuck!" Eliot said as he came once more, all over his own torso and Quentin's hand. Quentin then trailed his lips up Eliot's neck, making his way to Eliot's lips as he kissed him with a passion that couldn't be matched. Eliot kissed back, moaning into Quentin's mouth as he did so. As much as he loved kissing Eliot, Quentin reluctantly pulled away.

"As promised..." Quentin said, teasing Eliot as he kissed down his chest and torso to lick the cum off his body, and then his hand. Eliot thought it was one of the hottest things he'd ever seen. Quentin then said, "and, before I forget, I do believe you made a special request once..." as he made his way down to Eliot's leaking hole, and licked the cum that was dripping out of there too. Quentin couldn't help but grin at the sounds Eliot made. "Mmm, I am a man of my word after all," he teased Eliot, cleaning him as best he could, before shifting back up and settling comfortably against Eliot. "Love you, more than I've ever loved anyone," he admitted quietly, kissing Eliot again as he shifted to a better position so they could cuddle a bit. "I went from being a single stalker, to having the best boyfriend in the world, all in one day. You're amazing, and I'm not sure how I got so lucky."

"Quentin, my love, everybody deserves a slice of happiness in their lives, including you... especially you..." Eliot began, kissing Quentin chastely, "You've been through hell and back your entire life, it's about time you got a break. I hope I can make you see that you too are worthy of love, and if your head starts being mean to you, you gotta let me know, okay?" He asked, stroking Quentin's hair gently, petting him like he was a frightened kitten. Quentin looked into Eliot's eyes and nodded, and he curled his fingers into Eliot's hair in return.

"You always make the voices go away," Quentin admitted with a small smile, "Margo does too sometimes, but you... I dunno why, but you always do- well, except when all this was going on and my guilty conscience was taking over," he shrugged, "I'm gonna have to keep wearing long-sleeves though I guess, people will notice what I was doing, and if they ask why..." Rather than finishing that thought he cuddled in close. "Doesn't matter. We're together now, and I'll make sure that if things get bad again, I'll tell you first, I promise."

"Thank you babe. I'm sure it's nothing a healing spell can't fix if you're that self-conscious about them," Eliot suggested, referring to the scars, "and also we'll find a way to sneak into Mike's dorm room and plant that burner in there," he said with a smirk, to which Quentin giggled.

"I raise you sneaking it onto his person," Quentin countered with a grin, "sleight of hand, remember?"

"You're a _genius_ ," Eliot said, his eyes brightening with enthusiasm. He kissed Quentin sweetly, and they stayed cuddled up together naked on Quentin's bed for the rest of the day.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Eliot and Quentin, now a happy idiot couple, pin the incident on someone they and Margo all actively dislike for reasons.

The next morning, Quentin woke up to the best sight of his life. Eliot was sleeping peacefully, cuddling him like a favorite Teddy bear. He couldn't bear to wake him, so instead of getting up to shower, he settled in again and rested his head against Eliot's chest gently, brushing a kiss right over his heart. The voices were quiet for once, as if respecting the peace of this serene, quiet place they had made for themselves. He was just about to doze off again, when they were both shocked awake by a rude banging at the door.

"Wakey wakey rise and shine, lovebirds! I got cinnamon buns!" Margo called through the door. Once the initial shock had blown over, Quentin couldn't help but to giggle; it was uncontrollable. He hid his head in Eliot's chest to try to stifle the giggling, but it proved infectious and Eliot found himself giggling too.

After they’d mostly ridden out their giggle fit wave, Eliot poked his head up and spoke, "I've got some nice buns too, right in here. Give us a minute, we'll be right down," he told Margo with a playful grin to Quentin.

Quentin nuzzled Eliot softly. "Damn right you do" he grinned, before he blinked as Eliot mentioned that he was referring to Quentin's buns. "Ohhhh..." he responded in realization, blushing again.

It took them longer than it usually would have taken them to get dressed, because they kept teasing each other in various ways, but once they finally got some clothes on, they made their way to the door. Eliot miraculously remembered that Quentin had locked the door so they wouldn't get interrupted, and that's when Quentin remembered the quesadilla he left in the microwave the previous afternoon. Nonetheless, they made their way downstairs hand in hand, and Margo looked at them, feigning disgrace.

 

Todd happened to pass by, and when he saw them he grinned. "Ah! Good! uh, did either of you guys leave a Quesadilla in the microwave yesterday? It was super good, but I hope you didn't want it back or anything."

Quentin blushed a little, "That was me, and uh, it’s fine."

"Well, come on then, let’s have those cinnamon buns! I'm starved," Margo grinned, motioning for the two to join her, letting Todd figure his shit out himself. When Quentin went to sit down, Eliot shook his head, and hauled Quentin onto his lap with a playful grin.

"Boyfriend privileges," Eliot said as an explanation, low enough so only Quentin could hear, before he clapped once. "Bambi! I have news!"

Margo sat down next to them, serving up the cinnamon buns she promised and said, "What, you two finally got your heads out of your asses and banged?"

Quentin blushed, going redder than a tomato, as Eliot said, "Margo... we did more than just bang. Quentin and I are officially boyfriend and boyfriend now."

Margo looked at them both, utterly unsurprised. "Mm-hmm... well it's about damn time, too. I'm happy for you two. But if I start seeing all that gross PDA I'm gonna have to sexile you both," she warned. Quentin raised his hands in defence.

"No promises but I'll do my best," Quentin said. Eliot undermined said promise by wrapping his arm around Quentin and kissing his cheek. At Margo's look he merely grinned.

"I make no such agreement," he teased, a soft chuckle escaping as he noticed how much redder Quentin got. Quentin was just glad that he didn't have to hide his feelings for Eliot anymore, and took the moment to grab a cinnamon bun to munch on.

"Holy shit… These are _so_ good!" he grinned after swallowing a mouthful. Eliot grabbed Quentin's hand holding the cinnamon bun and took a bite out of it himself.

"Mmm, oh yeah. That is delicious," he said in agreement with Quentin.

Quentin looked at Eliot with an impossibly fond, adoring look, that (if Margo is honest with herself) could easily restore any human's faith in love.

"I would hope so; these are world famous. I may have bribed Penny into picking them up for me." Margo grinned playfully, "tt’s amazing what a nice pair of tits can get guys to do, though I haven't banged Penny yet, which is almost a shame," she added with a shrug.

"Why haven't you? I probably would have if he were into guys," Quentin said flippantly, which warranted a look of mock-shock from Eliot.

"Oh, _really_ now? Let's be real though, me too," Eliot said, offering Quentin a high five, and he took it without hesitation, grinning a bit.

Margo snorted. "Oh please, you two are so gone on each other you barely _register_ anyone else. Well, other than Mike, but that's because he's a dick. I still want to shove a sharpened stiletto up his ass."

"Did I hear my- oh…" Mike had entered the room, and his eyes immediately narrowed upon seeing Eliot and Q so close. He looked to Margo. "Was there something you needed?" he asked practically with a sneer.

Eliot and Quentin looked at each other knowingly; their chance had come. They waited for Mike to approach Margo, and once he did, he had his back to the happy couple. 'Oh this is too easy,' thought Quentin as he took his opportunity to grab his burner phone from his pocket and sneak it into one of Mike's back pockets. No sleight of hand necessary, apparently. Eliot struggled to stifle a giggle, and Quentin tried to shut him up by kissing him sweetly, except he too was trying not to giggle.

Quentin snuggled into Eliot's embrace, kissing him and distracting him from his giggles. They couldn't _exactly_ reveal themselves of course, though how to get Mike caught, that was a big question. Margo luckily did their work for them, because Mike apparently decided to try and get handsy with her as retaliation, until she busted his nose and knocked him to the floor.

"No one touches these without permission! Have you not heard how sexy consent is?" She applied pressure to Mike's balls with her foot, snarling until she noticed Penny. "Oh! Good timing, psychic. Can you get Fogg?"

"I'd ask what he did but I'm not sure I wanna know. Be right back," Penny replied and blipped away, returning barely fifteen seconds later hand in hand with Dean Fogg.

"What seems to be the problem?" Fogg asked, in his usual tired, I-dont-really-give-a-fuck voice.

"Well, this fuck-knuckle decided to cop a feel, after he's been harassing Quentin for a while now," Margo stood with her hands on her hips, "or are you just okay with students being dicks and sexually harassing students?"

In that moment, the phone fell out of Mike's back pocket.

"Oh uhh, is that...El?" Quentin looked at Eliot, trying to be casual about it to not arouse suspicion.

"You don't think...?" Eliot asked, putting on his best act. He grabbed his phone to call the number he knew belonged to the burner, and sure enough it rang. "It was you... you were the one that's been stalking me!" Eliot exclaimed, perhaps a little dramatically.

"I knew it..." Margo said, with added anger. Mike was utterly confused, and he tried to deny all allegations against him, but the evidence was apparently enough to condemn him"Mr McCormick... I need you to come with me..." Dean Fogg announced. He wasn't in the mood to take any shit so he was trusting the accusations made against Mike. Fogg then helped Mike up and escorted him out of the Physical Kids Cottage.

 

Quentin was amazed it worked to be quite honest, and (to sell it for Margo) he shifted to hug Eliot "I can't imagine what he might have done to you, if he groped Margo like that," he commented, hugging him a little tighter for effect.

"I hope that dickweed gets his shit kicked in," Margo snarled a little, before she sat down again. "Well, now that all that is done, our breakfast was interrupted... though I think we have some celebrating to do today too, right?"

"I'd love some wine, anyone for wine?" Quentin offered, as he got up from Eliot's lap.

"You're such a slut for wine, Q, I love it," Eliot teased adoringly as he watched Quentin go on the search for his beloved beverage.

"I can always go for wine, can't argue with that," Margo grinned, watching Quentin venture toward the bar, grabbing a bottle of wine and coming back with it quickly.

"Who says day-drinking is a bad idea? We're college students, let's go nuts!" Quentin grinned playfully.

"I would say we corrupted you, but I think you are a perfect fit with us, and always have been," Eliot answered fondly.

"Ooooh Eliot, our boy got taste..." Margo commented once she saw that Quentin instinctively grabbed a bottle of red.

"Red's my favourite, sue me," Quentin quipped back as he approached their table with three wine glasses.

"Well you are my favorite, so I don't _need_ to sue you," Eliot answered easily, smirking at the way Margo rolled her eyes. "Sorry, can't resist."

Margo snorted. "This is better than you two pining endlessly. I was beginning to think I'd need to knock you both in the head." Quentin looked at Eliot knowingly, and they chuckled together at their unspoken inside joke. "That's not fair, guys. You have a thing! Spill!"

Eliot and Quentin shared an Eskimo kiss and Eliot said, “Mm, no, Bambi, Some things are better left unsaid.”

 

When at last the wine bottle got opened, Quentin was generous in pouring out their glasses. “I’d like to propose a toast, only I have no idea where to begin, so I’ll just say cheers, to love, and friendship, and… I dunno… just cheers!”

The three amigos clinked their glasses together and sipped their wine, truly content with one another’s company.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You did it! I can't believe you read this entire fic without squicking out! Proud of you! Let us know what you think in the comments below! <3

**Author's Note:**

> Let us know what you think.


End file.
